Take Flight
by fadagaski
Summary: Kurt really, really likes kissing Blaine. But he worries that his boyfriend wants more than he knows how to give.


Title: Take Flight

Author: Allocin

Fandom: Glee

Wordcount: 5384

Rating: Adult

Genre: Romance

Pairing: Kurt/Blaine

Warnings: Graphic slash

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, its associated characters or plotlines. No profit is made from this work of fiction and no infringement intended. Please don't sue.

Summary: Kurt really, really likes kissing Blaine. But he worries that his boyfriend wants more than he knows how to give.

A/N: Birthday fic for Shei. Happy Womb Emancipation Day, woobie!

Kurt thinks he could spend forever like this, pressed chest to chest against Blaine on his bed, their hands making lazy sweeps over shoulder and hip, lips locked in a heated dance. Blaine nibbles delicately on Kurt's tongue and he whimpers, fingers gripping Blaine's neat shirt until the fabric is wrinkled and damp with sweat. There's a fire in Kurt's blood he's never felt before, fever-hot and bubbling under the skin. He feels like he could self-combust.

Blaine shifts, sliding impossibly closer, until their thighs are rubbing through thin school uniform pants. A tongue slips past Kurt's lips to flutter against his own and, emboldened, he sucks on it a little. They slide against each other, slick wet and dirty. This time it is Blaine who moans, and his hips thrust forward under Kurt's hands. Kurt registers the hardness pressed against his own. With a gasp he pulls back, lips disengaging with a sloppy wet sound. For a long moment he just lays there, panting for breath, feeling the burn of his cheeks as he stares into Blaine's lust-dark eyes.

"Okay?" Blaine asks softly. His lips are ruddy and swollen with kisses. He rubs firm cirlces into Kurt's arm with one thumb, as if he can't stop touching Kurt despite himself.

"Yeah, sure," Kurt breathes, nodding. Blaine leans in for another kiss. It is chaste in comparison, close-mouthed and gentle. He cups Kurt's head in one big hand, his fingers combing through Kurt's hair. A couple more, and then he pulls away to relax completely against the pillow. He smiles at Kurt's stunned expression.

"I could kiss you all day," Blaine says. Kurt, still a little breathless, can only smile. They hear the front door open, and then Burt yells to the house at large:

"I'm home!" Kurt turns wide eyes at Blaine.

"Time for me to go?" Blaine asks.

"Yeah," Kurt says, sheepish. Levering himself up one arm, Blaine looks down at Kurt still prone on the bed. He darts in, pressing one last kiss to the corner of his mouth, and then rolls off the bed.

Burt watches them coming down the stairs with narrowed eyes. He greets Blaine cordially, and waves goodbye from the kitchen when Kurt escorts Blaine to the door. They don't kiss on the threshold, though Kurt finds himself leaning towards Blaine's heat without conscious thought, licking his lips.

"I'll see you at school," Blaine says, and Kurt is secretly pleased to hear the hoarseness in his voice, the way he can't quite tear his gaze from Kurt's mouth.

"Right. Tomorrow," he says. It's an effort to back up, moreso to close the door as Blaine walks down the path to the sidewalk.

Burt is watching the tv, and it smells like dinner is in the oven, so Kurt retires to his room to get some homework done. He finds it impossible to concentrate though. The bed is rumpled, a dent the shape of Blaine's head sunk into the pillow. He can still smell Blaine's aftershave. It makes his fingers itch to trace along the proud curve of his chin, feel the rasp of stubble along his jawline. He remembers the involuntary hitch, the press of hard flesh against his own. Kurt blushes, even alone in his room.

He's never felt another boy's cock before. The very idea of it makes his stomach curdle a little. He wonders if Blaine noticed how much it shocked him. Then he wonders if Blaine has ever touched another boy like that before. Probably, Kurt decides. Blaine has so much more experience than Kurt, who came out less than a year ago, has kissed exactly two people in his life and the first one he's inclined to forget.

Sighing, Kurt tries to turn back to his homework, but algebra can't hold a candle to the memory of Blaine's eyes, dark and hot across the pillow. Kurt finds his mind wandering again, head propped up on one hand as his thoughts spin in circles. He really likes Blaine. Really, really likes him. He likes the stylish quiff of his hair, and he likes the power of his voice (even if his song selection is about as expansive as MTV), and he likes that they're the exact same height so kissing isn't a strain on either of them. Most of all, though, he likes that they understand one another, two previously traumatised gay boys in a sea of straight-identifying people, finding acceptance in and with each other. He doesn't want to lose that. He has to make sure he doesn't lose that.

"Kurt! Dinner's ready!" Burt calls up the stairs.

"Be right down!" Kurt yells back.

He is distracted all through the meal, even managing to knocked his water onto the floor. "Sorry dad," he mutters as he scurries around on hands and knees to mop up the spillage.

"Is something the matter?" Burt asks.

"Nope!" Kurt chirps.

"You sure? Because if something's the matter, you know you can tell me, right?"

"I know." Burt stares hard at Kurt for a long moment, but Kurt just smiles enigmatically.

"Okay then."

They finish dinner without further incidence. Burt asks about school, Kurt complains that their teacher for math is a harpy in the most hideous plaid suit jacket known to humanity at large, and they wash the dishes together. Burt fetches a beer out of the fridge (and only one, under Kurt's stern glare), and sinks into the sofa with a deep sigh.

"You going back upstairs?" he asks.

"The harpy demands it," Kurt says.

Of course, once in his room, algebra is the last thing on his mind. Instead, Kurt pulls out the pamphlets his dad gave him, which he read once before and then shoved away in his desk drawer. He looks at them again with fresh eyes. This time it isn't about learning the theory behind gay sex. Taking a deep breath, Kurt opens up the first pamphlet – the one with all the illustrations of naked men – and tries to picture himself as one of the participants.

It's a lot more difficult than he first thought, even just to imagine. His mind keeps trying to skitter away from the topic. He doesn't understand how anyone could want to put something up their ... well. Okay, so prostate stimulation is the main reason, and according to the literature then it is supposed to be a powerful and intimate experience, if done right. But he can't picture himself submitting to that, or putting his own cock up someone else's backside.

Perhaps a blow job. Kurt closes his eyes to better picture it. On his knees, his hands framing a pair of hips, fingers caught in the beltloops of the jeans Blaine likes so much. No, wait, there can't be jeans if he needs access to what's underneath. But then, Kurt can't imagine what's underneath. Do all cocks look the same? Will it look like his own? What if it doesn't? What if Kurt is abnormal in some way, and Blaine finds it repulsive? And even if Kurt somehow gets past all that, to the point where he is on his knees framing those hips, no jeans this time, what does a cock taste like? How will it feel in his mouth? Will it all fit in?

Kurt's so wrapped up in his frustrating spiral of questions that he doesn't hear the knock at his door. It creaks open slightly, and Burt sticks his head around the edge.

"Hey," he says. Kurt jumps, opening his eyes. "Mind if I come in?"

"Go ahead." Burt carries in a tray with two mugs balanced on it, which he places on the desk. There's chamomile tea for Kurt, and black coffee for himself. Kurt takes his with a small smile of thanks, and sips at the hot liquid. He flushes bright pink when he follows Burt's eyes to spread of gay sex pamphlets covering his math homework.

"So," Burt begins, causing Kurt to cringe. He loves his father more than anything, but that doesn't make these little talks any less awful. "What's going on with you and Blaine?"

"Nothing!" Kurt immediately protests. At Burt's raised brows, he slumps a little in his chair, cradling his tea close to his chest. "We just kiss," he says.

"He treating you right?"

"Like a princess," Kurt says, smiling despite himself, and it's true. Blaine is the perfect gentleman, buying him coffee, fetching his coat, holding his perma-frozen hands to rub some heat into them, better than any pair of gloves Kurt's owned.

"That's good," Burt says. He takes a fortifying chug of coffee, apparently impervious to the scalding heat, and bundles on. "So what's the problem? Don't say there isn't, because I know you. You haven't dropped a glass of water since you were six. You've been teaching me table manners since then."

Sipping at his tea, Kurt considers his words. "When do you know if you're ready for the next step in a relationship?" he asks haltingly.

"The next step as in sex?" Burt asks. Kurt burns red, but nods once. Coffee finished, Burt places the mug on the tray and folds his hands in his lap. "Well, it depends a lot on you. Some people think it's like a formula, like you work through the bases on a series of dates and when you get to the end you've won. And some people, they use sex as a substitute for intimacy. They don't have a strong enough relationship, or strong enough faith in the relationship, so they just jump straight to the sex and forget all the stuff that's supposed to come before. I guess you really have to ask yourself why you want to go to the next step. If it's for anything other than enjoying another person, everything they have to offer, giving each other something precious to treasure, then you're not ready for the next step."

Kurt nods slowly, taking in his father's advice. By that definition, he isn't ready for sex with Blaine. Oddly, Kurt is both relieved and disappointed at the realisation. "What if – what if you are sure it's for the right reasons, but it's your first time? What if ...?" Kurt trails off, unsure how to phrase what he wants to ask.

"What if you're scared?" Burt supplies. Kurt bites at his lower lip. "Losing your virginity is like, well, like parachuting for the first time." Wide-eyed, Kurt stares at his father in disbelief. "Don't give me that look. It's a good analogy. The first time you go parachuting, you'll have read some manuals, maybe looked up a few videos on YouTube, but you don't know what to expect. You worry that the chute won't open, or the plane will crash, or your tandem partner is drunk or suicidal. But you've built yourself up to do it, so you do it. It's a leap of faith, that first time, because you put your body in someone else's hands and pray that they don't do anything stupid with it."

"What if you're afraid of heights?" Kurt asks. Burt shifts in his chair, sticking his legs out in front of him. Kurt twists to give him more room.

"It's never easy for anyone, that first jump. Some people are too scared to even try it, and that's a huge shame because they're missing out on such an amazing experience. I mean, it's hard to open yourself up like that for the first time. There's nothing that really compares to it, because you're so vulnerable. But if you've find the right partner, someone you can trust and you want to share the experience with, then you just have to grit your teeth through the awkward bit at the beginning and enjoy the ride on the way down."

Kurt finishes his tea and puts the mug next to his father's with a gentle clink. Yawning widely, Burt stands and stretches the kinks out of his shoulders. He collects the tray and heads for the door.

"Dad?" Kurt stops him.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"No problem, kid."

Kurt spends most of the next day too distracted to focus in any of his classes. Instead, he stares at Blaine across the room in the lessons they share, or daydreams about him in the lessons they don't. While his teachers drone on about Pearl Harbour, The Grapes of Wrath, and Spanish verb tables, Kurt is engaged in a furious debate in his own mind. All last night he had tossed and turned in bed, tormented by the lingering smell of Blaine on the sheets, caught between his aversion of the idea of putting himself in a position of vulnerability, and the sudden assurance that if he was going to lose his virginity, he wanted it to be with Blaine.

His distraction costs him an after school detention, to his frustration, but Blaine is there to smooth his frown away with a gentle kiss. "I've been thinking about you all day," he murmurs against Kurt's lips.

"You too?" Kurt says, and they laugh.

They head back to Kurt's house together, and he has so much fun listening to Blaine's jokes and enjoying the way his thumb brushes across the top of his knuckles as they hold hands that he forgets all about the problem that has plagued him since yesterday. The house is empty when they stumble in, Blaine pressed right up to Kurt's back as he unlocks the door.

"Are you hungry?" Kurt asks. He dumps his bag on the dining table and goes to pour himself a glass of milk.

"No," Blaine says. Kurt watches over the rim of the glass as Blaine's fingers fiddle with the knot of his tie before sliding it loose. It coils on the table next to his school blazer. Despite the milk, Kurt's mouth goes dry when Blaine undoes the top button of his shirt. It's not something he hasn't seen before, but today Kurt's fingers twitch with the need to undo the next button, and maybe the next, to see and feel the soft skin underneath. He gulps his milk and sets the glass in the sink.

"What?" he asks, when Blaine's eyes crinkle at the edges and he bites his lip to keep from laughing.

"Nice moustache," he replies. Blushing, Kurt wipes milk from his top lip.

"Shall we?" He gestures to the stairs.

Kurt leaves Blaine in his room while he goes to the bathroom. He stares at himself in the mirror over the sink, looks into his own eyes and tries to find the courage his father talked about. He doesn't know if he loves Blaine, because he's never been in love before. But he likes him a lot, and he wants to share something of himself with him, a gift of appreciation for everything Blaine has given him: acceptance, self-confidence, restored faith in the goodness in people, and so much more.

Blaine is fiddling with his fingers when Kurt returns. He looks up, and smiles so brightly Kurt's heart skips a beat. The boy is gorgeous, and he knows then that he wants him. Coasting on a sudden wave of lust, Kurt's feet take him directly to Blaine, and before he can question himself he plants his knees either side of Blaine's hips. Blaine leans back against his hands, surprise on his face, and moans when Kurt holds his head still to crush their lips together.

It's never been rough between them, always sweet kisses and easy hands. The fire in his belly almost frightens Kurt into stopping, but then Blaine opens his mouth and Kurt can plunder the depths with his tongue. It's a dirty kiss, more tongue than lip, spit trailing between them. Their tongues slide slick and hot together. Kurt feels a warmth spreading through his limbs, making his nerves tingle and his fingers shake as they skate over Blaine's face. Blaine sucks hungrily on his tongue and with a muffled whimper Kurt grinds down against Blaine's half-hard cock.

"Ah!" Blaine breaks from their kiss, his arms giving out. Kurt nearly falls off his lap with the bounce of the mattress beneath his knees. He is panting like he's run a race, and Blaine is too. He runs his hands over Blaine's heaving chest. Underneath him he can feel the solid heat of Blaine's erection, and he can't help but rock his hips. The pleasure of it sends little thrills of electricity up his spine, and so he does it again, and then again. Kurt tips his head back as the warmth spreads from his groin up through his chest. It feels amazing, better than he could have imagined, far better than his own furtive hand in the middle of the night. Blaine's hands come to rest on his hips, halting their movement.

"Kurt," Blaine breathes. Kurt is inordinately proud to have winded the other boy so.

"Yeah?"

"What are we doing?" he asks. Smiling, Kurt leans over Blaine, his hands bracketing his head, and bends until their noses are almost touching.

"I would think that's self-evident," he says, smug. Blaine huffs a laugh, but his eyes are a little wild, and they dance over Kurt's face and away again. Kurt sits back up. "Don't you want to?"

"It's not that," Blaine says. He props himself up on his elbows, giving him a full view of the bulge in Kurt's pants. Kurt rocks down just to watch the way Blaine's eyelids shutter and his breath catches. "Can we not have this conversation with you sitting in my lap?"

Pursing his lips, Kurt rolls off to the side and sits with his legs drawn against his chest, arms wrapped tight around them. Blaine takes a long breath before he moves, twisting to face Kurt with one leg on the floor. He's frowning, lip caught between his teeth, fingers picking at the hem of his trousers. The silence stretches.

"You wanted to have a conversation?" Kurt prompts in a quavering voice. He has to blink back tears, setting his jaw against the tight lump in his throat. Blaine looks up. Immediately his face softens.

"Hey, hey," he soothes, and shuffles to sit next to Kurt, hip to hip, one arm slung over his shoulder. "I'm not rejecting you. Okay? This isn't even really about you."

"How can it not be about me?" Kurt protests. Oh God, he's hoarse and the tears are brimming. Kurt brushes them angrily away. "You flat out told me to get off you."

"Yeah, I did, I know. I'm sorry," Blaine says.

"Sorry for what? Leading me on?"

"Let me explain before you go casting judgements." Kurt silences himself with a mulish look on his face. Blaine sighs. "I like you a lot, Kurt. I already told you that. You move me, remember? In more ways than one." He shifts again, bringing his other hand to rub along Kurt's arm. "I just – don't know if I'm ready for this." Kurt looks at him from the corner of his eye.

"Are you a virgin too?" he asks.

"I am," Blaine says. He sighs again, before giving Kurt a tired smile. "I'm really happy that you're so comfortable with this, with us. As soon as we're on the same page, I'll let you know. Okay?" Kurt sniffs, and tamps down his sadness.

"Okay," he agrees.

The mood's gone after that, but Kurt doesn't quite feel like letting Blaine go just yet, so they venture downstairs to watch tv and eat microwave popcorn. Kurt barely pays any attention to the movie, some daytime Christian message flick set in the old west. He rests his head on Blaine's shoulder, the arm around his back a welcome weight he doesn't want to lose.

At six, though Burt has yet to show, they say goodbye with a gentle kiss at the doorway. Kurt makes a beeline for the freezer and pulls out the emergency stash of ice cream. Titanic goes into the DVD player, and the big fluffy blanket comes out of the cupboard. Kurt wraps himself up on the sofa for a long bout of sulking.

His dad calls at seven. "Sorry, son. I got caught up at work. I'm just heading over to Carole's old place for a bit. She's been cleaning up for the new buyers, and apparently there's something dead under the floorboards stinking up the place. Finn's out on a date with some girl from Glee club. Will you be okay on your own for a while?"

"Sure, dad."

"Okay." There's an feminine murmur in the background, indistinct, but it must be Carole. Burt comes back on the line. "We'll bring take-out on the way back. What do you want? Pizza?"

"Yeah, that sounds great." There's a pause.

"You okay? You sound a bit down and – is that Titanic playing?"

"I'm fine," Kurt says, choosing not to answer the second question. It is a well known fact in the Hummel household that if Kurt is miserable then he will drown himself in the romance of Kate and Leo.

"Alright. I'll be home as soon as I can. Love you."

"Love you too. Bye."

Kate's just let go of Leo's hand in the icy Atlantic when there's a knock at the door. Annoyed, Kurt hits pause and shuffles off the edge of the couch, though he keeps the blanket wrapped around his shoulders. His jaw drops to find Blaine on the other side of the door, in jeans and a sweater, sneakers on his feet and hands in his pockets.

"Hi," he says.

"Hi," Kurt says. They stare awkwardly at each other for a moment.

"Can I come in?" Kurt flushes to the roots of his hair.

"Yes, of course, sorry." He steps out of the way, and shuts the door behind Blaine. He's acutely aware of the empty ice cream container on the table, the row of used tissues lined up like soldiers, Kate's very blue face frozen on the screen. "Let me just throw these away," he mutters, embarrassed, and grabs the trash from the table and sofa. He hits the off button on the remote on his way.

"So I was thinking," Blaine says. He's stood in the middle of the lounge, rocking back and forth on his feet. There's colour in his cheeks.

"About?" Kurt prompts.

"You. And me. Do you mind if we sit?" Kurt nods absently at the sofa. Blaine perches on the very edge, knee jiggling with nervous energy. Kurt curls up on his end with his blanket still clutched around him. Blaine takes a deep breath. "I know I come across a lot more confident than I sometimes feel. I guess that's just part of the performer in me." He hesitates again.

"Better false confidence than melodrama. You leave that part to me," Kurt says, eliciting a strained laugh from Blaine.

"I'll keep that in mind," he says. He twists more fully to face Kurt. "The thing is, you move me, but you make me nervous as well. I've never felt for anyone before what I feel for you."

"Not even Mr Gap?" Kurt asks. Blaine shakes his head.

"Not even close." Kurt can't help the small smile that generates. "But all of that means I don't really know what I'm doing. I don't want to do something wrong, or hurt you. You're too important for me to risk." Kurt opens his mouth to interject, but Blaine holds up a silencing hand. "I know, it's not up to me to decide for both of us." He sighs again. "I just – I want to make sure I'm doing the right thing."

"My dad said if you want it for the right reasons, then it's okay," Kurt offers.

"Your dad is an amazing man." They sit in the quiet for a few long moments, smiling at each other, but the silence grows a bit awkward.

"So – what do we do now?" Kurt asks. Sighing softly, Blaine reaches out a hand. Kurt puts his in it, and their fingers knot together in a warm embrace.

"I'm scared," Blaine admits, quietly, staring at their joined hands.

"Me too."

"Really? You seemed so confident." Kurt laughs a little.

"I can be confident and scared at the same time. I'm sure it's all to do with the melodrama."

Blaine studies his face for long enough that Kurt worries he's had an ice cream moustache this whole time, but when he licks his top lip all he can taste is skin. He's gratified when Blaine's eyes darken, watching his tongue withdraw, and a sliver of lust kindles low in his belly. Still holding Blaine's hand, Kurt peels himself out of the blanket and stands.

"We don't have to do anything you don't want to," he says. Nodding, Blaine stands too, and they kiss their by the couch, a slow touch of lips with the slightest slip of tongues.

"You taste like ice cream," Blaine mumbles.

"Come on." Kurt tugs Blaine to the stairs, and they stumble up without letting go each other. They kiss by the side of the bed. Kurt cups Blaine's face as their mouths meet, opening to let breath pass between them. The skin of his cheek is soft under his palm. Blaine grips Kurt's shirt as their tongues slide messily together, chasing from one mouth to the other. He whimpers high in his throat when Kurt nips his bottom lip, soothing it after with a sweep of his tongue.

"Can I ...?" Blaine fumbles with the buttons of Kurt's shirt.

"Sure." He shrugs it off as soon as Blaine is done. His skin comes alive under the touch of Blaine's hands, a cascade of goosebumps shivering across his torso. They kiss again, hunger urging them on a little faster as Blaine traces Kurt's ribs, skims down his flank, circles his belly button with a thumb.

Kurt rucks up Blaine's sweater and shirt, sliding his fingers underneath to trace teasing patterns across his back. He feels like he's wired to a socket, coursing with electricity. His whole body is shaking, and so is Blaine as they mouth at each other with dirty hot kisses.

"Help me," Blaine grunts. Together they wrestle off his sweater, and his shirt beneath that, until they are pressed flush, bare chest to bare chest. Every inch of Kurt's flesh seems to ignite where they touch, tingling nerves sending a mass of sensation to his groin. His cock throbs in his pants. Working on instinct and lust, Kurt palms Blaine's ass and pulls him in, rubbing their dicks together.

"God," Blaine chokes, his hands clutching at Kurt's back. Kurt finds that he loves the look on Blaine's face, the little v between his brows and the flush spreading up his neck, so he does it again. Blaine grunts, and buries his head against Kurt's neck. The tickle of his breath sends shivers down Kurt's spine, even as he rocks them again. Blaine mouths at the join between neck and shoulder under his lips, and Kurt clutches him closer with a sudden whimper as sparks fire behind his eyes.

"More," he gasps, holding Blaine's head in place. Blaine obliges, nibbling and sucking on the one spot that has Kurt rocking onto the balls of his feet, head tipped back, whole body shaking. He cries out when Blaine bites down on that spot, thrusting hard against the other boy. It unbalances them, and they pull apart before they can fall over.

"Bed?" Blaine asks. He is a sight, hair mussed from Kurt's fingers, chest flushed red and nipples peaked.

"Wait." Kurt takes a moment to compose himself. This is the part he has been building himself up to, and yes he is scared, but he is confident too, because Blaine looks undone and it is all Kurt's doing. They are sharing something special with each other. Before he can second guess himself, Kurt unzips his pants and pushes them and his undies to the floor.

His cock juts out proudly from its nest of dark hair. Blaine stares slack-jawed at it, and Kurt tries not to let his anxiety show. The next move is Blaine's. He reaches out to touch, but aborts the movement, and instead unbuckles his belt. He wriggles out of his jeans and pulls the waistband of his boxer-briefs taut with his thumbs. He takes an audible breath, and then shimmies out of those too.

Like Blaine, Kurt can't help but stare. An unusual thought crosses his mind: Blaine's cock is beautiful. It's longer than his own, and straighter, though already it is wilting under Blaine's distress. Shaking himself from his stupor, Kurt makes himself turn away, climbing onto the bed to lounge against the pillows. He looks up at Blaine and pats the space beside him.

"Come join me," he murmurs.

They roll on their sides so that they're facing each other. Blaine seems to calm when Kurt does nothing but smile at him, soft and reassuring. Kurt thinks he should get an Oscar for the act, because inside he is a bundle of lust and nerves, all knotted together. Almost against his will, his eyes are drawn down the long expanse of Blaine's chest, dusted with dark hair, to his cock. It's a dark red now, the head peeping out from the foreskin and glistening with fluid. Kurt's fingers twitch.

"Can I touch you?" he whispers. Blaine nods once.

At least the feel of Blaine's cock is the same as his own, tender warm skin over a solid core. Kurt's fingers sketch lightly over the surface, skating from the root to ridge, then over the bump to glide across the spongy texture of the head. Blaine's breath stutters as Kurt's index slips across the eye, smearing precome over his finger. More pulses out, and they both watch as it dribbles down the side to drip onto the bed.

Catching Blaine's eye, Kurt makes sure they're watching each other as his hand grips Blaine fully. Blaine's mouth falls open, and he moans at the first experimental stroke. The angle is weird, but Kurt manages to find a rhythm pretty quickly, the glide made smooth by another gush of precome that coats his fingers. Blaine closes his eyes, lost to the sensation, as his hips stutter into the pace set by Kurt.

It doesn't take long for Blaine's breath to catch, for his awkward thrusts to become more pronounced. One accidental slip of Kurt's thumb through the slit is all it takes for Blaine to come, curling inwards as he shoots across Kurt's hand and the sheets. He lays panting for a few long moments, eyes squeezed shut, as Kurt's firm strokes become more gentle. His hand is striped with pearly strings of come. He tries to picture having that happen in his mouth, but even now finds it impossible. It's of no consequence, however. Kurt feels the swell of pride in his chest. Letting go Blaine's softening cock, Kurt wipes his hand on the sheet before cupping Blaine's cheek again. Dark eyes crack open to peer at him. The pupils are blown wide open.

"Are you alright?" Kurt asks.

Blaine surges forward to kiss him by way of answer, lips devouring Kurt's hungrily. Before Kurt can quite register what's happening, Blaine's hand is wrapped around his shaft. The urgency of his need is brought rapidly to the fore when Blaine strokes once, drawing a long hiss out of Kurt. It's too dry, but Blaine seems to realise the problem because he spits in his hand. A part of Kurt is thoroughly grossed out, but the rest of him is caught up in the feel of someone else's touch on his cock. Blaine's fingers are a little rough with calluses that scrape along the vein on the underside, and on the way up he adds a twist to his wrist at the top that has Kurt gasping. Two more pulls and that's it, Kurt's coming harder than he ever has in his life, toes curling and a cry choked up in his throat.

It takes a long moment of just staring up at his ceiling for Kurt to get his breath back. His whole body tingles. Blaine presses a sweet kiss on his cheek. Kurt rolls his head to look at Blaine across the pillow. They smile goofily at each other.

"We did it," Kurt says. Blaine grins even wider.

"I'm glad."


End file.
